


My Baby's Baby

by JustAWinchesterGirl



Series: Anything For Sam [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Once again the Major Character Death Warning is for a death we know exists, Pregnancy, not really much Sam/Reader but it's a part of the series so, some demon!Dean, spans seasons 8-10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 05:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWinchesterGirl/pseuds/JustAWinchesterGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set throughout mid-s8 to the beginning of s10. I'm honestly not sure what that time-span was but it seemed to happen pretty fast to me and this is fanfic so it's about a year. Call it creative liberty.</p><p>Things with Sam and Dean seem normal again, but when you get an unwelcome surprise and are infuriated when you realize you don't know whose surprise it is, it brings up old conflicts. The boys put you on the bench for a while, but there's still a lot to deal with despite not getting to hunt.<br/>Last Part of Anything for Sam!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Not Invisible

You sigh in contentment and lean against the door frame of the motel room, looking out into the parking lot where Dean is elbow deep under the hood of his beloved Impala. You’ve got a sandwich in one hand, and a beer in the other, but you can wait another minute or two before interrupting him- there is nothing sexier than watching your baby work on **his** Baby.

Everything had been oddly quiet on the demon tablet front for the past couple weeks. You’d had the odd case here and there- witchcraft, werewolves- nothing huge or world ending. Now Dean was acting strangely. He said he had to take off on his own for a few days, which- after Purgatory- every part of you screamed not to let him go, but you know you’re being irrational and there’s nothing you can do about it. He told you it was important- that he had to go help out a friend who had helped him escape Purgatory; Benny. That’s all he’d told you though, said he could handle it himself, and weirdest of all- he’d told you not to tell Sam.

Dean finally looks up from his car and catches your eye, a wide grin crossing over his face as he sees what you’re holding, and he saunters over to you to pull you into a sloppy kiss and take the food you offer him. “Thanks, baby!” he smiles at you, taking a huge bite of the turkey BLT you’d made him and groaning, “Ohhhh, best girlfriend ever!” around a mouthful.

“Fiancée,” you correct, smiling and looking down at the ring you’d picked out at a pawn shop after Dean had won enough money hustling pool to buy it for you.

“Yeah,” he smiles, “Fiancée.”

“Do you have to go?” you complain again, not wanting him to leave you after only being together a few weeks.

“I will be quick, I promise,” he says, kissing the top of your head and taking a sip of his beer.

“Well, I still don’t see why we can’t come with you. What if you need back up?”

He shakes his head, “It’s a small job, Y/N, and I’ve already got Benny.”

“Will you at least tell me what sort of job?” you ask, “Or why you can’t tell Sam about Benny?”

He sighs and goes over to shut the hood on Baby before leaning up against her. You follow and lean slightly against him, arms brushing, hips touching, you feel like Dean is the sun and you’re caught in his orbit after going so long without warmth or light. “It’s a small nest of vampires,” he says after a minute and a few sips of beer, “Super simple for two people,” he takes a deep breath, “And as for Sam,” he says, looking pointedly at you, “He just wouldn’t understand Benny, Y/N, it’s best if he just doesn’t know.”

“Fine,” you concede, “But I don’t like keeping secrets from him.”

“I know,” he kisses your cheek, “I owe you big.”

“How big?” you ask, smirking.

He grins and his green eyes glint in the morning sunlight, “ _So_ big.” He sets his now empty plate and beer bottle on the roof of the car and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you so that you’re sitting slightly against his strong forearms, pressed against his chest and elevated to look down on his gorgeous freckled face. You swipe your thumb gently over the constellation of light freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheek bones, curving your thumb to follow the line of his jaw and then up to his lips, reveling when you hear his breath catch in his throat and see his eyes glaze over with desire. You press your lips gently down against his, cupping his face in one hand and holding the back of his neck with the other. One of his hands is pressed flat against the small of your back and he’s squeezing you tighter to himself.

“Right now?” you ask in a hopeful whisper when you break apart.

“I can’t,” he breathes in frustrated defeat, setting you down in front of him, “I gotta hit the road. I love you, and I promise,” his voice drops low against your ear, “I’ll give it to you as hard as you want as soon as I get back. The very moment.”

You shudder and a soft moan leaves your lips as his hands give your hips one last squeeze before he moves away.

Sam comes out to join the two of you in the parking lot, freshly showered after his ridiculously early morning workout, “You haven’t left yet?” he jokes, smiling at his brother.

Sam had been oddly good for the last couple weeks. The two of them hadn’t been in one real fight with each other. He hadn’t tried anything or said anything about your time together when Dean was gone. Everything had fallen back to basically normal as far as the brothers relationship was concerned. But for you- it was weird. Sam talked to you, and he was polite enough about it- but he wasn’t _Sam_. He didn’t joke around with you anymore. He barely looked at you, even when you spoke. He never touched you, even casually. It felt like he went to great lengths to avoid you, but Dean didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong. And now you had to spend a few days completely alone with him.

“I’m just hitting the road now,” he says, “You two gonna be okay without me?” he grins, not realizing what he said, or just pretending he didn’t know just how **not** okay you were going to be.

“Yeah, of course,” Sam answers for the both of you, not even looking in your direction.

“Alright then, I’m off,” Dean says, leaning over to kiss you goodbye.

“Be safe,” you tell him, taking the dishes off the roof of his car so he doesn’t drive away with them.

“When aren’t I?” he winks before driving away.

You watch until the Impala’s rear lights are out of sight.

* * *

 

Sam doesn’t talk to you. Like, at all. It’s been four hours, and it’s driving you bonkers.

You passive-aggressively huff and go about your day _around_ him. Cleaning the dishes, and making the bed because you can’t let the maid in with a room of loaded weapons. Finally, you go to take a shower, not even bothering to ask him if he needs in the bathroom before you snag it. If he wants to play the silent game then you’re going to fucking **win**.

You let the hot water of the shower pour over you, relaxing your muscles, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You’re in the shower maybe ten minutes before the water pressure drops and it starts to go cold. You sigh and get out to towel off, rummaging in your toiletry bag to find your toothbrush. You grab something else by mistake and freeze as you remember something you _never_ forget. Not while living on the road with two men. Never **ever**.

In your panic, you leave the washroom in only your towel and forget all about the silent game, “Sam! What day is it?”

Startled, he actually looks at you, “Tuesday?”

“No, the date! What’s the date?” you ask, frustrated.

“Umm… the eighth?” he says, “Y/N, what’s this about?”

“Fuck!” you yell in anger, dropping your towel and rummaging through your luggage for clothes, not even bothering to notice the way Sam’s eyes are definitely not avoiding you now. You pull on your underwear and jeans, and slip into one of Dean’s shirts without bothering with a bra, throw your hair up and rush out of the motel room leaving a worried, dumbfounded, slightly turned on Sam behind.

* * *

 

You pace the floor of the gas station bathroom. Why do these things take so fucking _long_?

1 minute.

2 minutes.

3 minutes.

You pick it up off the edge of the sink and your heart all but stops.

Pink.

It’s **pink**.

And there’s a little plus sign on the screen.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you scream again and fling the thing into the trash. Your panic overwhelms you and you sob violently, sinking to the floor and wrapping your arms around your knees.

“Miss?” the gas station clerk knocks on the door, “Is everything alright?” she asks knowingly.

You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself and get up off the floor, opening the door to exit the bathroom.

“Good news?” she asks, smiling.

“Bad news,” you spit out, helplessly, “And I have no idea whose it is!”

* * *

 

Sam’s face is worried when you get back to the motel room. You’d taken the time on the on the walk back to calm down and you resolved not to tell Sam anything before Dean. Hell, you didn’t want to tell either of them, but you knew that was unrealistic. They’d find out in a few months anyway.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks, worry in his eyes as he approaches you, and honestly you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s finally looking at you, and touching your arm gently.

“Yeah, Sam, I’m sorry I freaked out before. I didn’t mean to worry you,” you assure him, smiling softly.

“Should I even ask?” he asks tentatively, “Or is it a chick thing?”

You laugh, “A chick thing. Do not worry about it.”

“Okay,” he sighs in relief, and turns away, his hand leaving your arm and you almost miss the contact.

“Sam!” you exclaim before you can stop yourself.

He turns slightly but still doesn’t look at you, “What?”

“You can’t avoid me forever,” you sigh, walking over to him to grab his arms and force him to look at you, “You have to look at me! You have to talk to me! You have to _touch_ me sometimes! I’m not invisible!” You don’t realize you’re crying again until the tears hit your hands where they are clutching Sam’s arms. Sam is looking at you wide-eyed and open mouthed, as if he is stunned that his avoiding you has affected you this much.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he says gently, hands going to your shoulders to rub them soothingly and calm you down, “It’s hard for me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act anymore. I don’t know what we’re supposed to be.”

“A family, Sam!” you tell him, “Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed, Y/N!” he exclaims, “You’re marrying my brother!”

“You knew it was going to be Dean,” you whisper, “You knew even before I did!”

He swallows and looks away, “Do you remember when we first met? It was on a hunt- demon possession. Three people dead, four missing. You kept telling us to leave- that you could handle the situation, but instead we ended up working together. And then you just… never left,” he tells you.

“Yeah, Sam, I remember,” you say slowly, not sure where this is going.

He chuckles, “I remember thinking- you are _exactly_ Dean’s type. But when you smiled at me… your smile, Y/N, I’m telling you- it’s breathtaking.”

“Sam-”

“Y’know, I actually thought you might be into me, for a second there,” he continues, “That you might actually go home with me, instead of Dean. How stupid could I get?”

You shake your head, “That’s not stupid, Sam. I thought you were very cute, if you’d have come onto me first I probably would have slept with you that night and not Dean. He just beat you to the punch.”

“Yeah, well…” he sighs, “You slept with Dean. And I thought that was that, only you didn’t leave. You stayed with us to hunt down that demon that escaped. It took weeks. And after that we just didn’t want you to go. You’d weaseled your way in. You were already family, Y/N. We already loved you.”

“I couldn’t have left if I tried,” you smile, “I loved you both too much. I couldn’t just go- you boys would probably be dead in a week without me,” you say cockily.

He laughs, “You’re probably right.”

“Sam, what is this about?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath and continues the story, “I could tell Dean cared about you, but of course, he’s an idiot so he stuffed his feelings down with booze and random bar hookups, despite having you all to himself. Then we were in North Dakota, and Dean was out on a case.”

“Werewolves,” you remember.

“Yeah. And you…” he smiles at you, “somehow you convinced me to crawl into bed with you.”

You laugh and shrug, remembering, “It wasn’t hard. You melted like putty in my hands. And you were so cute.”

“I thought you were mine. Until Dean came home.”

You frown, remembering your first time with Sam, and how gentle he had been compared to how he was in bed every time after that. How he’d been smiling nearly the whole time. How his fingertips trailed gently over your skin. How he’d been slow but so, so _thorough_. And how, just as you were both coming down from your high, your cellphone had rung and Dean had told you he was coming back so you’d kicked Sam right out of bed as hurriedly as you could. You felt ashamed. You and Dean hadn’t been exclusive by any sense of the word, but you doubted a guy you were even casually sleeping with would react well to seeing you in bed with his brother.

“Then there was that night when Dean was with the Amazon,” Sam went on, “I knew, I **knew** it was his stupidity that drove you into my arms. I knew that I was just… a revenge fuck, or a rebound, or whatever. But I didn’t care. I just wanted you so much, Y/N. But as soon as all of that was over Dean seemed to get his priorities straight and stopped trying to get with anyone but you.”

You tremble as you remember the jealousy you felt when Dean had gone home with Lydia. You’d refused to let yourself love him. You knew hunters- you knew you’d get hurt. But Sam was there, and he was soft and warm, and kissed you so gently when you’d twined your hand in his hair and begged him to fuck you. He’d been rough and angry that night and it was exciting. You loved every minute of it. You loved Sam. That was why- when Dean had tried the first time to be exclusive- you’d told him you’d rather keep things casual.

“Then there was that night I couldn’t sleep,” he keeps talking, but his voice drops to a whisper and you realize how close he’s gotten to you, “Y/N, I knew Dean was watching.”

“You what?” you gasp, taken aback.

“I knew the second he was awake. I didn’t care. Half of it was the fear, the desperation I felt to keep my visions away and you were the only thing I had to cling onto. But half of me just wanted whatever you two had to be over so I could keep you for myself,” he says, “It was selfish. But it didn’t work, anyway.”

“Sam, you knew he was in love with me!” you say, slightly angrily, though you know you have no reason to be.

“ **I** was in love with you!” he shouts, “But I felt so guilty the next day, and when you and Dean were fighting I saw how hurt you looked. How much you love him,” he trails off.

“Sam, I’m sorry,” you tell him sincerely, “When all of this started, I was just having fun fooling around with a couple of good looking guys, and I thought that’s all you and Dean wanted to do with me, too. I never meant to fall in love. I never meant for anyone to get hurt.”

“I know,” he says quietly.

“Sam… I don’t know how to fix this,” you admit.

He sighs, “Neither do I, Y/N.”


	2. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Sam get a surprise when you find out the truth about Benny. Then, you add onto the shit pile when you tell the boys your news.

_“Mom! Mommy!” a little girl cries, clutching a tattered teddy bear to her chest and reaching out for her mother, who’s being dragged away a large man with black eyes._

_“Y/N!” the woman is screaming, kicking and clawing at the man as he tries to pull her through the door._

_“Shut up, bitch,” the man grunts, whacking her in the head, “Do you want to end up like your husband?”_

_The woman lets out a grieving scream and reaches again for her child, who is sitting next to her dead father in a pool of blood. The child watches as her mother is pulled from the room, and two more men with black eyes come in to search the house._

_“What about that one?” one says, pointing at the child._

_“She’s a baby,” the other shrugs, “She’ll be dead by morning anyway, just leave her.”_

_The woman is found ripped in two- three towns over, the next day._

* * *

 

You wake up crying, drenched in sweat that makes your hair and clothes stick to your skin, and shaking. A warm hand is on your head and worried hazel eyes are looking into yours.

“Y/N? Y/N? Are you okay?” he asks.

You sit up slowly, batting Sam’s hand away, “Just a nightmare,” you say groggily.

“Was it the one about your mother?” Sam asks quietly.

You nod. Your boys know the dream well- it’s the one you always have, other than when Dean had been in Purgatory.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly, unable to say anything else to comfort you.

“Its fine,” you say, getting out of bed, “I was only three, I barely remember her.”

“Yeah, well… I know what that’s like,” Sam says, resting a hand on your shoulder, “I know you still miss her.”

You bite your lip and choke back a few unwanted tears. It had been years, you shouldn’t feel sad about it anymore. You’d killed that demon years ago, but of course that didn’t make anything okay again.

“I’m going to have a shower,” you whisper, shrugging off Sam’s hand and pushing past him into the bathroom.

You feel sick as you strip and step into the lukewarm spray of water (since Sam had already showered). You are a hunter- how can you bring a child into this world of demons and monsters? How can you bring a child into this life? Dean would never allow it, but you can’t imagine **not** hunting. You’d been doing it almost your entire life. What would you do instead? You had no education, no skills outside of firing a gun and decapitation. You supposed you’d probably make a pretty good cop, and you chuckle to yourself at the thought, mundane human cases would probably bore you. You’d be too quick to blame monsters at every turn. They’d lock you in a padded cell.

Your cellphone blasting Carry On Wayward Son breaks you from your thoughts and alerts you to Dean calling. You hop out of the shower, wrap a towel around your hair, and pick up the phone, a golf ball sized lump in your throat.

“Dean, are you okay? What happened?” you ask immediately.

“I’m fine, baby,” he says gruffly, but you can tell he’s distracted, “Just checkin’ in on you.”

“I’m not the one on a hunt, Dean,” you point out.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he assures you, voice dropping to absurdly quiet.

“ **I**? Alone? Dean, what happened to Benny?” you ask, worried, “Are you in the nest right now?”

“Yeah, I just- Benny got captured. I’m handling it,” he tells you, and you hear him grunt, and then a thud as a vampire’s head hits the floor.

“Dean, do you need back up?” you ask, more worried now and hurriedly pulling on your clothes as you talk.

“No, babe, don’t worry about it. I-” he cuts out and the phone goes dead.

“SAM!” you shout, pulling your shirt on over your head as you exit the bathroom and immediately starting to pack up your weapons.

“What? Y/N, what is it?” he asks, concerned and helping you pack without reason or argument.

“Dean needs help,” you say, snatching a knife from his hands, “I got this, go steal us a car.”

Sam leaves without a word and you finish packing up the motel room in record time as Sam pulls up to the door. You tell Sam where to go and the two of you speed off down the highway.

“He went on a hunt alone?” Sam asks, a look of hurt confusion crossing his face.

“Not exactly,” you say, biting your lip. You hate keeping secrets from Sam, and you don’t want to break Dean’s trust, but this is important, “He went with someone else.”

“Someone who?” he asks irritated, “Another hunter?”

You shrug, “I guess. He said he helped him escape Purgatory. He told me not to tell you, but that seems to have gone out the window now. His name is Benny. That’s all I know, though. They went to take down a nest of vamps. It didn’t seem that bad, the way Dean was talking, so I didn’t try to stop him.”

Sam grits his teeth in annoyance, “If he helped Dean escape Purgatory he would have had to be **in** Purgatory, Y/N. Humans don’t go to Purgatory.”

“Dean did,” you point out, “And so what? What if he’s not human? That’s not exactly out of the normal for us. Cas isn’t human,” You shrug.

“Dean is such a hypocrite,” Sam says hotly under his breath, ignoring you.

“Sam, we should be _thankful_! If Benny got Dean out of Purgatory, we should be kissing the ground he walks on!” you tell him, angry with his attitude.

“Or slithers on, or floats above,” Sam mutters.

You huff and turn away from him in anger, “Speed up,” you tell him angrily, “Your brother is in danger.”

Sam says nothing, but accelerates.

* * *

 

Benny is a vampire. Which, all in all, doesn’t seem that bad to you. Dean says he only drinks from a blood bag, and that he is a good friend, and honestly it’s better than being buddy-buddy with a demon. Sam doesn’t see it that way though.

As the two of them argue, you decide to stay out of it and let them just work their own shit out- you’ve got enough problems of your own to deal with right now. Like figuring out when to tell Dean you’re pregnant. Like figuring out how to mention that there’s a _slight_ possibility that the baby is actually Sam’s. Like deciding what you’re going to do about it before Dean has a chance to influence you one way or the other. You can’t be soft with this decision- if you keep this child, they will grow up in the life whether you and Dean try to shelter them from it or not. Their parents will be Winchesters. That is reason enough not to go through with it.

Maybe, though, you could give them up to some nice, normal family in a safe place with low monster activity. They could grow up normal, and loved. Go to school, have friends, have a family they wouldn’t have to wonder about whether or not they would come home at the end of every day. The rational part of you knows that those are the only two options. Some small part of you wants to keep it.

You imagine living a normal, mundane life with Dean. Big house. White picket fence. A yard. Children playing while you cook supper and wait for Dean to come home from the garage where he works. Sam coming over to visit and introduce you to his new girlfriend. No demons. No ghosts. No hunting.

You sigh, that isn’t reality. Reality is the slightly filthy backseat of a ’67 Chevy Impala, a machete covered in dried vampire blood, and two men who you love more than anything in the world arguing in the front seat while you try to figure out how to tell them that one of them is your baby daddy and you don’t know which one.

After a while, the squabbling in the front seat dies down and Dean reaches over to turn up the music; the universal signal for “conversation over”. You’re not sure who won the argument, but you think it was probably Dean. The three of you drive in silence for a while before Dean pulls into a truck rest stop to get a few hours of shut eye. Dean crawls into the backseat to snuggle up with you while Sam sprawls out- as much as it is possible for a man his size to sprawl- in the front. Dean’s back is pressed into the door, his head resting against the cool widow, his legs stretched out across the seat so that one foot is pressed against the opposite door and the other dangles off the seat. You’re curled up in his lap, your head resting against his chest, tucked under his chin, and he rhythmically smooths your hair back as the three of you lay in silence and try to sleep.

You can’t sleep.

You don’t _want_ to sleep.

You stretch up away from Dean and peer over the seat to see if Sam has dozed off yet. He hasn’t.

“I have to tell you boys something,” you whisper, turning in Dean’s lap so you can face them both.

Sam sits up and Dean’s eyes grow concerned, “What is it?”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip and not wanting to meet those beautiful green eyes, “Dean…” you start, tears welling up in your eyes before you finally tear them away from the spot on the floor you’ve been staring at to meet his, “I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

You don’t know what you expected but it’s not this.

Dean hasn’t moved. Hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t even changed his facial expression. He’s just frozen, the only thing moving is his eyes and you can see the cogs turning in his brain.

“You’re pregnant?” Sam repeats quietly, already catching on to the biggest reason that this is a problem. You’re not sure that Dean is there yet. He’s still too concerned about what it means for a hunter to be bringing a child into the world that he hasn’t even stopped to consider that the child might not even be his.

“I’m gonna be a father?” he whispers finally, still unmoving, “Me? No. No. **No**.”

A part of you feels heartbroken that Dean doesn’t want to have kids with you, but the rational part knows that in some other world, in some other lifetime, this would have gone much differently.

“Dean-” you start.

“How the hell did this happen?” he yells, finally moving as he dumps you onto the seat and gets out of the car to pace. You follow him, not saying anything to his clearly rhetorical question, “We can’t raise a kid!” he yells, “Not now! Probably not ever!”

Meanwhile, Sam is still sitting in the front seat of the car, the door open and his legs hanging out as he watches you, studying you with big, sad eyes.

You lick your dry lips and try to press on, “Dean, that’s not the worst part.”

He rounds on you, an incredulous look on his face, “What could possibly be worse?”

“I… it’s just… Dean…” you can’t find the words. They get stuck in your throat as you try to speak. You can feel your throat close and your mouth go dry as his gaze becomes more and more heated and impatient.

“It’s mine,” Sam says finally, getting up.

“Excuse me?” Dean says darkly, fixing his brother with a dangerous glare.

“Possibly,” you agree quietly, “Not for sure, but… there’s a chance.”

“What the _hell_ , Sam?” Dean yells, “Wrap it up, man! What were you thinking?”

“I could say the same to you,” Sam points out.

“She’s MY girlfriend! Besides, Y/N, I thought you were on the pill?” he says.

“Well, I **was** , Dean. But then you went missing. I wasn’t exactly having sex, and I didn’t see the need to spend money on it anymore,” you explain.

Dean sighs in frustration, “So you just hopped into bed to have unprotected sex with my brother knowing full well that you had no line of defense against this?”

“We weren’t exactly thinking at the time, Dean,” you defend.

“Clearly!” he snaps.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” you say quietly, going over to rest your hand on his arm. You’re surprised to find he’s trembling. When you look up to meet his eyes you expect to see anger, but you’re met with fear.

“What are we gonna do, Y/N?” he asks you softly.

You allow a few tears to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, “I don’t know,” you answer truthfully.


	3. Don't Tell Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys take matters into their own hands, and put you on the bench. While the boys' relationship is tested by Sam's mistrust of Dean's new vampire friend, your own relationship with them is also tested when your current dilemma brings the feud between them back up.

Once they’d gotten past the initial shock, and the anger that the baby might be Sam’s (because you’d already had this fight, and the fact that you’d slept with Sam was old news), the boys went straight into do-something mode.

They pampered you. Absolutely **pampered**.

The next night, you’d skipped the shitty roadside motel and Dean pulled into a 4 star hotel. You got out in confusion when he parked the Impala. There’s a reason you don’t stay in chain hotels; it’s too easy to track your credit card fraud. Plus there’s way less privacy, and more questions asked than in crappy motels. But Dean _insisted_. The beds are huge and plushy and the best things you’ve ever laid on in your life. The TV is a flat-screen and has an almost endless amount of free channels. And that night, you have an honest to god bubble bath!

The next morning, they let you sleep in and Sam goes out and brings you back a huge pancake breakfast- and several pregnancy books. You skim through one half-heartedly while looking with skepticism and confusion between your boys as they eat and discuss what to do about the situation. Neither of your previously thought of plans even come up in the conversation.

You arch an eyebrow and put the book down, “Excuse me?” you say loudly, getting their attention. You look at Dean like he’s gone insane, “Are we _keeping_ it?”

A hurt look crosses his face, “You don’t want to?”

“Dean, **you** don’t want to!” you say incredulously, “You said no, several times I do recall. And we’re hunters! What kind of life is this for a kid? You two should know!”

“We turned out okay,” Sam mumbles.

“My kid will never hunt,” Dean says gruffly, “Never. We’ll figure it out, Y/N, but if there’s one thing I know it’s that that kid will never hunt, and that I gotta step up my game and make this world a whole lot safer for him.”

“Him?” you smile, despite your brain’s protests of this whole situation.

Surprising you, Dean gets up and walks over to where you’re now standing, sinks to his knees, his hands gripping your hips, and presses a few soft kisses to your tummy. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you blush and wish you could capture this moment in your mind forever.

“I still wanna marry you, Y/N,” Dean says, looking sincerely up at you, “And I have no fucking clue how to be a father, and you’re right, this is no life for a kid. But I’m gonna be here for you, and for him- no matter whose he is- and I am freaking out but I’m gonna try my damned hardest to give this kid a life that he deserves.”

“ **How**?” you ask in a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes, “There’s nothing child appropriate about you, Dean. Your job, your food, your drinking habits- your car alone is a death trap.”

“Then, I’ll park her,” he says, surprising you yet again.

“No!” you yell, somewhat a little too frantically, “Dean, no. You love that car! I love that car. That car is like 50% of your personality. We’ll figure something out,” you insist.

He laughs, but looks relieved that you aren’t gonna make him park Baby.

“As for the rest of it,” he shrugs, “Me and Sammy did turn out okay. I’m not saying our dad was father of the year or anything- but he did alright. I’m shooting to do better.”

“Dean… what if something happens to us?” you ask.

He gets up and starts to pack his stuff up to go, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, baby, because you’re benched.”

“What?” you ask, turning to look at Sam for help.

Sam shrugs, “We talked about it, Y/N, it’s the only way to keep you safe.”

“You can’t _bench_ me!” you protest, “I’m only two weeks pregnant you guys, come on, I have plenty left in me before I gotta quit.”

Dean shakes his head, handing you your bag and pushing you gently toward the door, “No use arguing, babe. We’re headed back to your place now to drop you off before we head out again. You’re gonna stay put, at least until we find a more permanent living situation for you.”

“Permanent?” you echo, irritated that they’ve seemed to make all of your decisions for you without even talking with you about it, “What about Kevin? And the demon tablet?”

“Not your concern anymore, sweetheart,” Dean says as you get into the car.

“Just leave the hunting to us for a while,” Sam says softly, “Please, Y/N, this is for the best.”

“You’ve been oddly quiet,” you point out to Sam, “We haven’t even talked about what’s gonna happen if it’s yours.”

“ _He_ ,” Dean corrects.

“I’ll admit, I haven’t quite wrapped my head around it yet,” Sam says, not meeting your eyes, “You’re… you’re marrying Dean, regardless, so I imagine that will be an… awkward situation.”

“He could just call us both Dad,” Dean snorts in amusement, “Daddy Sam, and Daddy Dean.”

“You’re being calm about this,” Sam says.

“Well, Sammy,” says Dean with a grin, “If I don’t laugh, I may punch you.”

* * *

 

They get you all settled in at the tiny house that once belonged to your adoptive parents- who had been hunters, and had died on the job three years ago- and then hit the road again. While Dean had been unpacking your stuff into the upstairs bedroom, you and Sam had had a moment alone together as you unpacked the kitchen.

“I don’t want you to marry him,” Sam had said abruptly, turning to face you and grabbing your arms so that you had to look at him, his chest entirely too close to your body, “If the baby is mine, I don’t want you to marry him, Y/N.”

“It’s too late, Sam,” you’d said, as you tried to shrug him off, “I said yes. I’m going to marry Dean, no matter what.”

“You _can’t_ ,” his voice broke and he looked at you with such pain in his face that you almost forgot all about Dean and kissed him right then and there. This thing you had for taking care of Sam had gone entirely too far.

“Sam,” you’d protested, “I’m sorry. I love Dean. I want to marry him. And I desperately want this to be his baby,” you sighed, “But if it’s not- we’ll figure something out, Sam.”

“Y/N-” Sam had started, but was interrupted by Dean coming down the stairs.

“Okay, all settled in!” Dean exclaimed, coming over to wrap his arms around you and kiss you goodbye, “Look, baby, I know this isn’t what you want, but it’s for the best for right now, okay?”

“I know,” you’d conceded, walking with them to the door to see them off.

Sam said nothing as he’d climbed into the passenger seat; he just gave you this deep look of anger and longing.

You shook your head slightly at him before turning to kiss Dean again.

“I love you,” Dean said quietly.

“I love you, too, Dean,” you promised.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” he said, kissing you one last time before getting into the car and smiling at you through the open window, “You just do your job and keep little Dean Jr. safe until Daddy gets home.”

“If you keep calling yourself Daddy we’re gonna have a problem!” you called after him as they drove away, “And we’re not calling him Dean Jr.!”

Now you were on your own.

It hadn’t been three hours and you’re bored.

“Benched,” you grumble to yourself, “They can’t bench me. This is ridiculous.”

You stomped around the house, cleaning, putting things in order. After a while you order yourself a pizza. You open your computer and click around aimlessly for a while, not really noticing that even now- you were looking for a case. You stop as your eye catches something on the news site you’re patrolling. A woman had suddenly snapped and decapitated her husband, not too far from here. I might be nothing- but it was worth a shot. Surely you could easily handle a case like this on your own? Sam and Dean never had to find out. You entertain the idea for a while before the logical side of your mind wins out. You huff and fall back against the couch cushions, grabbing your phone and dialing Dean.

“Miss me already, sweetheart?” you can hear his cocky grin on the other side of the phone.

“Terribly,” you say sarcastically, “Actually, I found you guys a case.”

“Really?” he asks, “Already?”

You shrug, despite the fact that he can’t see you, “Yeah, well, I was bored.”

“Alright, tell me about it,” he says, and you give him the details.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like our kind of thing,” Sam says.

You hadn’t realized you were on speaker. “Well, it could be,” you argue hotly, “Vengeful wives that do kill their husbands usually have better planning than this. This guy was decapitated. Completely out of the blue, as far as I can tell. It could be demon possession,” you offer.

“Well, we’ll check it out anyway,” Dean says, “You two fighting or something? You look about ready to kill someone, dude.”

“I’m just… still pissed off from our argument,” he says quietly.

“You guys were arguing? About me?” you ask.

“About Benny,” Dean grunts, “And it’s **over** now. Right, Sam?”

“I said whatever, Dean,” you hear Sam say.

“Oh,” you say, relieved.

“We’ll check in with you later, babe, okay?” Dean asks. “

Yeah, okay,” you sigh, “Stay safe.”

“Will do.”

The line goes dead.

You sigh, curling up on the couch and letting a few tears fall. A few tears become a lot of tears, and a lot of tears become sobs. You press your hand flat against your stomach, the feeling of despair and helplessness filling you at the whole situation.

“Dean Jr.” you whisper, chuckling silently to yourself, “God, I hope so.”

* * *

 

“Really? You’re sure it’s Cas?” you ask, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you do dishes.

“Yeah, babe, it’s him alright,” Dean says, an air of disbelief still in his voice at seeing his long lost angel friend.

“Well, how did he get out?” you press, you didn’t get as much information about the goings on in the Winchesters life since you’d been benched, and you were more than a little irritated about it.

“That’s the thing, he says he has no idea,” Dean answers gruffly, “something’s off about him, Y/N. I mean more so than usual.”

“Well… it’s probably just being in Purgatory. I mean you weren’t exactly the same old Dean when you got back either,” you point out.

“Yeah, I guess,” he sighs.

“How is Sam?” you ask hesitantly.

“Sam is… Sam,” he says quietly, “You know, brooding, moody. He’s still angry with me about Benny.”

You bit your lip and keep quiet about what Sam had asked of you the day they left. You’d done enough to ruin their relationship already. You couldn’t bear to see them fighting. Besides, Sam wasn’t in his right mind right now- the news about the baby had shocked him. You knew that he loved you, and that he was just trying to do right by your unborn child, but you had made your decision. It was Dean. You’d do anything for Sam. Really, anything. You’d proven that before- multiple times. But as much as you cared about Sam, sometimes you had to do things for yourself too.

You loved Sam. Things had been simple with Sam. You could have easily loved him the way he wanted you to and been with him forever. You cared for Sam, you worried about Sam, you had fun with Sam, you were _comfortable_ with Sam. It came as naturally to you as breathing.

Dean made you **feel**. Dean made you nervous. Dean made you excited. Dean made your heart skip beats in your chest and your lungs forget to breathe. Dean made adrenaline pump through your veins. Dean made you want to scream. Dean felt like falling. It didn’t come easily. It didn’t feel comfortable. It was a rush, and it was everything you wanted to feel from now until the end of your life.

“He’ll come around,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Dean says, “I hope so.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back,” you mumble.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean sounds tired, like it’s all too much for him. It probably is, “I’ll call you tomorrow, babe.”

“I love you,” you tell him in parting before hanging up the phone.

You sigh and go into the living room to sink down on the couch and flick through the channels on your tiny TV.

* * *

 

You hadn’t heard from the Winchesters in two days. Not that you talk to Sam very often anymore. You knew you shouldn’t feel so worried about them- two days was hardly long when you knew how busy your boys were- but you were a hunter, and you worried instinctively. It was late, and Dean usually called you before bed to check in on you and fill you in on what was going on. You take a deep breath to calm yourself- sometimes hunts lasted all night. You were not going to be that girl.

You’re startled by a loud knock on the door before is opens with a bang.

“Y/N!” you hear Sam shout.

“Sam?” you acknowledge, going over to the door to meet him, “What are you doing here?”

He looks confused, “You didn’t text me?”

You shake your head, looking at him with concern.

He pulls out his phone to show you the text; _Sam, I need you. Come quick_.

“I didn’t send that, Sam, I’m sorry,” you tell him.

He huffs and looks away in anger, jaw clenched, “Dean.”

“That dick!” you exclaim, but your laughter negates your empathy.

He glares at you, “This isn’t funny, Y/N, I thought you were in danger.”

“I’m sorry,” you compose your face, “That really was a dick move, Sam. Want me to yell at him for you?”

He shakes his head the tiniest amount. His jaw is clenched, his angry eyes looking at something that wasn’t there.

“Sam. Tell me what’s going on,” you say, leading him over to the couch to sit.

He tells you that Benny had killed two people, and that Dean was defending him. He’d gone in with a hunter named Martin to finish it, but Dean had beat them to it and gone to help Benny. He said he must’ve replaced your number in his phone and sent that text to get him out of the way.

“That doesn’t sound like Dean,” you comment, “standing up for a vampire?”

“No,” he agrees, “it doesn’t.”

“Sam, are you sure it was Benny who killed those people?” you ask.

“What?” he asks angrily, “Y/N, he’s a vampire!”

“Because you haven’t been friends with monsters before?” you point out, “Amy?”

He looks at you angrily, “Yeah, and Dean killed her.”

“Yeah, okay, so Dean’s being a hypocrite, but so are you! I get it, you asked Dean to trust Amy and he stabbed you in the back on that one so now you’re angry that he’s friends with Benny. You guys were trained to hunt. Killing monsters was ingrained in your brother’s mind from day one, Sam. Now his experiences have allowed him to be more open minded and you’re honestly being a hypocrite as well for not giving Dean that trust that you asked for with Amy,” you sigh, “Can’t you just be the bigger person here, Sam?”

“Be the bigger person?” he says in disbelief, “I can’t believe you’re taking his side on this one!”

“Sam, Benny did a lot for him! If Dean says he checks out then I trust him!” you yell, standing to match his seated height, “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, but enough is enough. If your brother asks you to trust him, then you do it! Otherwise, you’re no better than he was when he killed Amy.”

He sighs, still angry, but he drops it, his eyes coming up to meet yours, no longer filled just with anger but with hurt, “How- how are you?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve been better,” you admit, sitting back down next to him and allowing him to take one of your hands in both of his.

“Is it the baby?” he asks in concern.

You shake your head, “No, that’s been okay. But it hasn’t even been two months yet. I’m not looking forward to getting huge. Mostly, I just… miss you two. I miss hunting. I can’t sleep in my bed, I keep wishing it was the backseat of Dean’s car,” you chuckle, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought?”

He chuckles, but it’s humourless.

“Sam…” you start.

“No, don’t say it,” he says, “I’m sorry for what I said. I’m… happy for you and Dean, really. I just can’t believe how messed up this got.”

“Sam, I am so sorry,” you say again.

“It’s not your fault, I pressured you…”

“No, Sam, I **wanted** to.”

“You said no, Y/N, and I begged you to anyway,” he sighs.

“Sam…”

“Y/N, don’t.”

You didn’t realize how close to his face you’d gotten. You let out a shaky breath and back away slowly. His eyes are boring into your and there’s that absolutely heartbroken look on his face again. You’re not sure how much more of this he can take. You’re not sure how much more of this _you_ can take.

“Y/N-” he breathes.

“Fuck it,” you gasp, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He growls and brings his hand up to tangle in your hair, holding your face to his. You straddle him on the couch, pushing yourself close to him, as close to him as you can possibly get. His lips finally leave yours as you both gasp for air, and he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Sam,” you gasp, “Sam, stop. Stop.”

He pulls away to look at you, his eyes blown with lust, but also hurt and confusion. “Make up your own _damn_ mind, Y/N,” he says angrily.

You bite your lip, “I did, Sam.”

“Dean,” he sighs.

“Dean,” you nod.

“Then I better go,” he says quietly.

You nod again, crawling off his lap, “Probably. Or I’m gonna do something I’ll regret.”

He laughs angrily again, “God damn it, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again, knowing all of the apologies in the world could never make up for how you were constantly hurting him. All you’d ever wanted to do was to help him. All you wanted was to take away his pain. All you did was cause it. You loved these boys more than anything in the world, and constantly you hurt them both, again and again.

“Yeah, Y/N, I’m sorry too,” he spits, picking up his discarded jacket and leaving.

“Sam?” you call after him.

“I know!” he shouts, “Don’t tell Dean!”


	4. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find you a more permanent living situation, and you and Dean decide to christen it.

“After all of that? He just _killed_ him?” you’re on your own again, living vicariously through Dean’s recounts of their life over the phone.

“Yeah, I’m telling you Y/N, something is seriously wrong with the guy. You should have seen his face,” he says.

“Yeah, and his eyes were bleeding,” Sam says, “What would cause an Angel to do that?”

That was one thing you were grateful for. Sam and Dean seemed to have made up for the most part- and Sam hadn’t told Dean about your little indiscretion. He hadn’t said a word to you about it yet either, but things seemed to be okay between you right now. Of course, when all of your communication was on the phone and with Dean right there, it was hard to tell.

“I don’t know, Sam,” you say.

“Angels, man,” Dean comments unhelpfully, “Well, Y/N, I think I’m gonna hit the hay. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight boys,” you say.

“Goodnight,” they both say before hanging up.

* * *

 

“Your **grandfather**?” you exclaim in disbelief.

“Yeah, and get this- he was a part of some sort of secret society that basically chronicled all the lore and secrets pertaining to everything we’ve ever hunted, and more,” Sam geeks out.

“Sounds like your kind of club, Sam,” you grin.

“I have to admit, the guy was smart,” Dean says, “Carved a devil’s trap into a bullet and shot Abaddon in the chin with it. She was stuck and we didn’t even have to get paint on our clothes.”

“Nice move, I’m using that,” you comment.

“So apparently, this key goes to like- their hideout or something. Everything they’ve ever learned is kept there. We’re headed there now,” Sam tells you.

“ _Seriously_?” you ask, irritated, “You’re going without me?”

You hear Dean chuckle, “Look out your window, sweetheart.”

You dart excitedly to the window, pulling back the curtain and smiling wide as you see the Impala pull into your driveway. You jump excitedly and race to the door, pulling it open and bolting down the front steps just in time to meet Dean halfway to the house. You jump into his arms, kissing him roughly, arms wrapped around his neck.

He grins against your lips and chuckles low in his throat, “I missed you too, babe.”

You break off and smile at them- at both of them. Sam is smiling back at you- amused by your display of affection apparently.

“Get packed, Y/N, we’re hitting the road,” Dean says, ushering you back inside and following you to help.

“Where is it?” you ask, excited to be a part of things again.

“Kansas,” Dean smiles, “There’s no place like home.”

“So… I’m off the bench?” you ask, looking up at him hopefully.

He shakes his head, “No, baby, you’re still benched. Nine months, babe. But this isn’t really a case, so… you can come with.”

You pout and look to Sam for back up, “Come on, Sammy, you can’t possibly want to bench me for nine whole months?”

“Or longer,” Sam says, “Someone’s gotta stay behind to take care of it after it’s born.”

“ **He!** ” Dean insists again.

“Fine. He,” Sam complies.

“I’m so not ready to be a mom,” you grumble.

“You should’ve thought of that before you failed to mention your shields were down,” Dean quips, grabbing your bag and following you out to the car.

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. It was your fault you were in this mess. Curse your recklessness and lack of self-control.

You were sort of looking forward to having this baby, though. Babies were cute, you’d always liked them. Hell, you’d even thought about having kids one day, when you were young. But that had been ages ago- when you thought you’d be done hunting after killing one demon. Before you met the Winchesters.

You hoped to god it was Dean’s. You daydreamed for hours on end of a little boy with Dean’s big green eyes, and a mop of curls to match yours. You didn’t like the idea of giving up hunting, though. Dean clearly wasn’t going to- if anything he was even more driven to make the world safe for his future son. Hunting was all you knew. You wanted to keep hunting, and be a mom at the same time. Others had done it. What if Dean didn’t come home one day, and left you and your little one all alone? What if you could’ve stopped it if you’d only _been_ there?

After a long drive full of some much needed meaningless talk (such as which superhero could beat which in a fight, which ice cream flavour was clearly superior- Dean stood by chocolate while Sam argued for Neapolitan- and how Dean did absolutely **not** see last week’s episode of Dr. Sexy M.D, and _no, he did not find Dr. Sexy sexy_ … that he’d admit), you pull up outside what looks like a huge abandoned facility of some kind. There’s a small metal door on one side, down a couple steps in the concrete.

“Well, come on, boys. What are you waiting for?” you grin, jumping out of the car.

* * *

 

You **love** the bunker. It’s got heat, electricity, a hot shower, and close-by, easily hackable Wi-Fi.

You lounge on the bed, watching as Dean decorates your room with his guns. You smile, watching him hang up shelves and mounts for his various prized weapons. Watching his back muscles and arms appreciatively as he works.

“Like it?” he asks, turning and smiling as he finishes hanging the last gun on the wall.

“Love it,” you smile, reaching out for him as he stalks toward you and falls beside you on the bed, “It’s very _you_.”

He kisses your nose and frowns, “This is your room, too. Do something to it.”

You shake your head, “I like your style. I already love it… it’s got you everywhere.”

“I like it too…” he whispers in your ear, “We should christen it,” he grins.

“Christen it?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“ _Christen_ it,” he repeats gruffly, grabbing your ass in one hand and yanking your body closer to his.

“Ah,” you say in acknowledgement, grinning at him underneath a sudden assault of kisses.

His mouth captures yours in a hot, wet, long, slow kiss, his soft lips brushing against yours gently and the tip of his tongue toying softly with yours. You hum appreciatively and bring your hands up to bury in his hair, holding his face to yours.

Dean is an **excellent** kisser. You’ve always thought so, ever since the very first time his lips had touched yours and he took your breath away. His lips were soft, his tongue was gentle, and he knew the exact right way to lick inside and brush against your mouth to make you sigh and squirm beneath him.

His fingertips ghost, just barely brushing your skin, over your shoulder and down your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

“Dean,” you breathe, biting your lip in anticipation as he continues his light touches on other parts of your body. His fingers drop from your arm to your tank top clad back, running gently along your spine before getting to the hem of the shirt and dipping under it to lightly caress the skin at the small of your back. You shudder under his fingertips, looking up at him with hooded eyes to see him smirking back at you.

His eyes are fixed on your face as he teases you, his tongue sticking out a little against his bottom lip as he watches what he can do to you. His fingers go over the waist band of your jeans, sliding slowly down the curve of your ass, to your thigh, which he grabs, squeezing gently, and hikes up to wrap around his hip, pushing your bodies closer.

“It’s been too long,” he groans quietly against your lips as you kiss him, raking your fingers through his hair.

“Hell yeah, it has,” you growl, growing impatient and rolling your bodies so that Dean is flat on his back and you’re straddling his hips, grinding down onto his rapidly growing erection as you continue to frantically kiss him.

“Now we have our own room,” he grins when you pull away.

“Yes, so while Sam is still preoccupied with the Men of Letters junk, can we _please_ get a move on?” you complain, tugging off your shirt and pulling at the hem of his impatiently.

He chuckles, “Damn, Y/N, I heard being pregnant makes women horny, but this…”

“Shut up,” you growl, placing a hand on his now bare chest and pushing him back down to the bed, your lips colliding with his. He moans appreciatively under your kiss as your hips grind together frantically, desperately trying to get friction through two pairs of jeans. His hands grip your hips and he gently lifts you off of him, rolling you over to your back on the bed. You make a little noise of disapproval as he backs away from you.

“It might help if we take these off,” he laughs at you, undoing the button on his jeans and starting to shuck them and his boxers away. You hurriedly follow suit, kicking off your jeans and panties a little too eagerly. He laughs at you again, eyeing your naked body appreciatively with lust darkened eyes, and stalking toward the bed, hard cock jumping against his stomach as he steps to the edge of the bed and crawls over you. His lips attach to your neck as his fingers trace light trails down your sides and over your hips, across your thighs, purposefully ignoring any erogenous zones you desperately want him to touch.

“Dean…” you whine, trying to buck your hips against his but he holds you down. He says nothing, but smiles against your skin as he kisses his way down your throat, licks over your collar bone, over your breast and sucks your nipple into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth as one hand comes up to knead the other breast roughly. You moan and bury your hands in his hair, holding his head to your chest. He chuckles again and leaves your breast with one last teasing flick of his tongue. He holds himself above you, eyes scanning your body as you’re splayed out for him, biting his lip and breath coming in shorter pants now.

“God, Y/N,” he groans under his breath, taking the hand that isn’t holding him up and tracing his fingers gently up your right leg from knee to inner thigh, then finally- **finally** \- tracing the tip of his finger lightly up your slit to circle around your clit. You suck in a breath sharply, arching a little into the still too gentle touch and whimpering.

He leans low over you, breath hot in your ear as he asks gruffly, “How do you want me, baby?”

“Inside me!” you gasp, gripping his biceps tight and placing hot kisses to his shoulder.

He moans quietly and repositions himself over you, taking his cock in one hand to line up at your entrance, eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he enters you with one slick thrust. He stops for a second once he’s fully inside of you, eyes falling closed, mouth open as he enjoys the sensation of you, hot and wet around him.

You clench around his cock, enjoying the small breath he lets out in response, then wiggle your hips a bit, “Go,” you tell him, “Please.”

He laughs again, breathlessly, then moans as he pulls his cock out of you very slowly, holding your hips down with one hand so that you don’t break his rhythm. He pulls almost entirely out of you, then thrusts back in hard.

“Ah! Dean!” you choke out in surprise, tightening your grip on his arms, nails digging into his skin. He repeats these slow, hard thrusts a few more times, seemingly enthralled by the noises you make each time he thrusts back into you and the look of utter frustration on your face.

“Dean, _please_!” you whine, trying to buck your hips in his grasp but the inch or so that you do manage to get off the bed, he pulls back so it doesn’t give you any relief.

He leans down and captures your lip between his teeth, nibbling and sucking gently before releasing it, placing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips and moving low to your ear to whisper, “Beg me for it.”

“Please!” you repeat, wrapping your legs around his waist and trying to pull him down, deeper inside of you.

“Please **what**?” he asks gruffly, kissing down your neck, tongue hot and heavy against your skin.

“Please, fuck me, Dean!” you pant, squirming under him, and clenching and unclenching around his cock to try and get him to just move.

“Y/N, I _am_ fucking you,” he chuckles, pulling back ever slowly again before snapping his hips forward hard, causing you to cry out.

“Faster,” you gasp, “Harder. **More** , Dean, more,” you groan.

He does it again, “That’s not a sentence, baby. Try again. Tell me what you want.”

“I want…” you pant out desperately, wild eyes looking up into his lust darkened but bemused ones, “you to fuck me fast and hard until I’m screaming. Dean, baby, I wanna feel you for days.”

“Fuck, Y/N…” he groans, head tilting back as he squeezes his eyes shut at your words and swallows. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he hikes your legs up higher to change his angle and begins to slam his hips quickly against yours, fucking you fast and hard so that your hands are scrambling for purchase on his back to hold yourself close to him as he moves, lifting you off the bed a few times before slamming the two of you back down to the mattress.

As much as you loved the long, slow thrusts- taking the full length of Dean’s cock again and again until it drove you wild- these frantic, short, hard thrusts brought you more relief, his cock brushing hard against your g-spot every time he slammed back into you. And as much as you knew Dean loved to tease you, as much as _you_ loved it when Dean teased you, loved to watch him watch you- the faces and the noises he is making now as he thrusts in and out of you at this fast pace are an absolute turn on. You love watching Dean in the throes of pleasure. You love the way his lips part in ecstasy, his breath coming in shallow gasps, moaning deep and low in his chest. You love the way he’s looking at you right now like you’re his favourite meal to be eaten. This hot, possessive, downright predatory look in his eyes brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘Hunter’.

“Y/N,” he gasps, head falling to rest on your shoulder as he continues to buck his hips, nut the rhythm has begun to stutter, “You gotta come for me, baby, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

You move one hand from his shoulder to your clit to rub fast, gentle circles around it as Dean fucks you. Your hips begin to buck up to meet his, grinding his cock in just the right spot repeatedly, and Dean doesn’t try to hold you down anymore, too focused on trying to pleasure you while staving off his own orgasm.

“God, I’m so close, Dean,” you hiss in his ear, trying desperately to reach your climax that lingers just beyond your reach, threatening to crash down on you at any moment but for some godforsaken reason hasn’t delivered on that promise yet.

“Babe, come on,” he gasps.

You whine in frustration and grind your hips harder into Dean’s, moaning at the contact of his skin against your wet heat as he fucks into you, his movements becoming more and more frantic and out of sync.

“God, babe,” he moans, “Y/N!” He stills, his cock deep inside of you, and moans loud and low in his chest, trembling against your body as he comes.

You let out a high pitched moan and gasp as you finally follow suit, Dean’s climax triggering your own.

After a while of silence- aside from the shallow breaths as you both come down from your high- Dean looks up at you, grinning, green eyes shining as he places one slow kiss to your lips before pulling out and rolling over.

“Welcome home, baby,” he smiles lazily at you.

“Home,” you repeat in a breath, eyes wandering around the room and smiling at the thought, “We have a _home_.”


	5. It's A -!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The months seem to be whizzing by as you make a home for yourself at the bunker. The boys, however, go about their usual jobs and try to keep you as far as possible from what's happening. But that's easier said than done.

You were 22 weeks pregnant, and though you weren’t kept completely in the dark, the boys made you stay home and certainly didn’t tell you much. You knew they were trying to shut the gates of Hell. You knew Kevin was holed up somewhere desperately trying to translate the demon tablet, but you didn’t know where or exactly what for. You had no idea where Cas was or what was going on with him. You knew Sammy seemed sick. Whatever they were doing- whatever slamming Hell’s doors shut for good entailed- it was treating him rough. You hated being kept in the dark. You wanted to help. You could at least do research for them. But, no, Dean told you stress was bad for the baby and was determined to keep you as far from the game as possible. Honestly you were stressing out just not knowing what was going on with them.

You look up from the movie you’re watching when you hear the clunk of the heavy metal door open and two pairs of boots clump down the rattling staircase. You get up and go to greet them, hoping they’d actually tell you something about what they’ve been up to. When you get there, they’re arguing and there’s looks of panic on both of their faces.

“What is it?” you ask worriedly.

Dean stops mid-sentence and looks at you hesitantly, like he’s trying to decide how much he should tell you. He shoots a look at Sam, who just shrugs and turns to you, “Kevin is missing,” he tells you.

“We think he bolted,” Dean clarifies, “Kid was going completely batshit. It was only a matter of time.”

You look at him incredulously, “And you’re doing _what_ about it?”

“We’ll find him, Y/N, calm down!” Dean defends himself, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Don’t worry about anything. We’ll take care of it.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mumble, irritated, as Dean stomps away.

Sam walks over and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, wobbling a little where he stands, “Hey. It’ll be okay. Once this is all over, there’ll be no more demons to worry about. Little… Sam or Dean Jr. will be safe.”

Your hand comes up instinctively to caress your bulging stomach, running your fingers lovingly over where you can feel your child resting in your womb. Dean had taken to referring to the child as only “Dean Jr.”, as if saying it would somehow make it true. Sam barely ever referred to the baby at all, but when he did he was more realistic and conceded that it could belong to either of them.

You just referred to the baby as “the baby”. You’d had to do everything on your own so far. The boys were always busy, always hunting, always saving the world. Neither of them had been to any of your ultrasounds or anything. Which, honestly, you were fine with, because you’d elected not to find out the sex of the baby until birth and Dean hated it.

“He’s a boy,” he always said, “He’s a boy, and he’s **mine**.”

Sam usually kept pretty quiet about baby related things, especially around Dean, but one night when the boys had had a bit too much to drink, he’d held you close and whispered in your ear, “I think it’s a girl.”

You hated how one breath could push the little boy with Dean’s eyes from your mind, and have you picturing a little girl with your eyes and Sam’s dark hair.

You shake the memory from your mind and smile at him, “I know, Sam. But I can’t help but worry. Look at what this is doing to you,” you reach up to cup the side of his face gently in your hand, tracing your thumb along his cheek in small, soothing circles, “And you won’t tell me anything.”

He sighs, closing his eyes like he’s in pain- or maybe he’s feeling relief against your skin.

“I’m fine, Y/N. It’s going to be okay.”

You swallow dryly, tears springing to your eyes as you take in his condition. He’s thinner- you don’t think he’s been eating. He’s pale, fragile, with dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in weeks. You wonder if he has. He’s trembling a little, his breath comes in raspy gasps, and you know he’s been coughing up blood.

You let your other hand join the first one on his face, making his eyes flutter open at the contact and meet yours.

“Sam,” you breathe, “tell me how to help you. Tell me how to take away your pain.”

He smiles sadly, “You can’t, Y/N. No one can,” he whispers before kissing your hair softly and stumbling away to his room.

You find Dean in your room, dressing after a shower. You go over to him quietly, running your hands over his shoulders and pressing your lips gently to the skin of his back. He stills and sighs in contentment, all the tension leaving his body as you kiss his stress away. He turns, dropping the shirt he’d been about to put on and wrapping his arms gently around you, placing soft kisses against your mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Sam?” you whisper, looking up at him sadly, “About how bad he is?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Y/N,” he says gruffly.

“No,” you interrupt him, “Don’t sugar coat it, Dean. I want the truth.”

He looks at you for a moment, eyes searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether or not you can handle it. After a minute, he sighs again and wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, looking away from you, “It’s bad.”

“I can see that,” you say, “What’s doing this? How do we fix it?”

“I don’t know, Y/N, it’s the trials,” he says.

“Trials?” you raise an eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate.

“To shut the gates of Hell you have to complete this series of trials to do a spell,” he explains, “Sam snatched the first trial out from under me so now he’s gotta continue them. He’s got two under his belt now and there’s one left but Kevin wasn’t finished translating it and now he’s…” he trails off, “It’s fine. We’ll find him, but in the meantime, I don’t know how to fix Sam. I’m not sure what this is.”

“Let me _help_ ,” you plead, “Let me do something.”

He shakes his head, “No, Y/N, you don’t need to deal with this right now. You gotta take care of yourself. I’m not gonna pull you into all-”

“I’m **in** it, Dean!” you snap, “I was in it the moment I said yes, remember? I’m gonna be your wife, Dean, we have to be partners in this. You can’t keep me out of it.”

“I have to protect you,” he whispers, eyes pleading with yours to understand him, he looks more worried and more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen him, “I have to protect both of you.” His hands fall down to run gently over your baby bump and he lets out a little breath as his hands come into contact with your skin. He brings his eyes back up to yours from where he was looking at your stomach and breathes, “Y/N, please.”

You shudder under his gaze and close your eyes, turning your head to escape the intensity in it. “Okay,” you whisper, “I get it. I won’t get in the middle of it, but Dean, you have to find a way to help Sam. He looks like he’s barely hanging on.”

He kisses you softly and rests his forehead against yours, “I know, Y/N, I promise I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“I know you won’t,” you sigh.

* * *

 

Crowley had had Kevin. They’d told you that much. He was here now, though. Rescued, Sam had told you, by the scribe of God. With Kevin here, you were much more privy to their conversations, and you learned that the third and final trial Sam would have to undertake was curing a demon. You didn’t think it was possible.

Cas was here, and the three of them were searching through Men of Letters’ files for any scrap of information that might be helpful to them.

“Y/N,” Cas greets as he walks into the room with the boys, one of them carrying what looks like an old film reel. He freezes, staring at your stomach for a moment before turning to Dean, “You never told me you were having a daughter.”

“Damn it, Cas!” you groan. You wanted it to be a surprise.

“It’s a girl?” Sam asks excitedly at the same time that Dean asks, “You’re sure it’s mine?”

Cas rests his hand against your stomach, it’s warm, unbelievably warm, and it glows for a second before he lifts it off of you and nods once, “Yes, she’s definitely yours, Dean. And she’s definitely a girl.”

You bite your lip as relief floods every part of you. She was _Dean’s_. You were carrying Dean’s child. Dean’s daughter. You were going to have a little girl.

You barely have time to silently celebrate before Dean is scooping you up in his arms, lifting you off of your feet, spinning you around, and pressing heated kisses to your lips.

“I knew she was yours,” you whisper, smiling against his lips.

“Congratulations,” Sam smiles, clapping his brother on the shoulder, but he’s looking at you.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you smile back at him, hoping that he’s okay and that you can put all of this behind you now.

“Holy shit…” Dean breathes, “A little girl. I don’t know anything about little girls.” He frowns.

“One thing at a time, Dean,” you say, kissing his cheek and taking the film reel out of Sam’s hands, “Let’s find out how to cure a demon, shall we?”

* * *

 

You were 27 week pregnant, and the boys had given up trying to shut the gates of Hell. The trials had been killing Sam, and you and Dean had both agreed you’d rather let Sam live than never have to fight another demon again. Maybe it was selfish, but you didn’t care. The angels had fallen, and Cas was MIA, which worried you big time, especially since Sam and Dean were both acting so strangely since they’d gotten home. Sometimes Sam seemed pretty normal, just tired and weak, but sometimes he wasn’t himself. His movements seemed mechanical, he spoke monotonously. You were worried the trials had messed him up somehow.

Dean was acting strangely, too. He didn’t meet your gaze around Sam, and you weren’t spending as much time together even while the boys were home. You hadn’t even had sex in three weeks which bothered you immensely because it was so unlike Dean, and because your hormones made you horny as hell. You worried you were getting too big for him. The thought made you sad and incredibly self-conscious.

Now, the focus was on killing Abaddon, who had escaped when the boys had tried to use her for the third trial. Dean wasn’t handling things well at all. He seemed a mess since they’d come home. He was guilt ridden, thinking that Abaddon’s escape was all his fault. Between that and worrying about you and Sam, and Cas- he wasn’t doing well at all.

“Baby, come to bed,” you sigh as you enter the library in the middle of the night to find him still sitting there- shifting through Men of Letters’ files to find anything on how to kill a Knight of Hell.

“Can’t,” he grunts, not looking at you and continuing to look through the book in front of him.

“Dean…” you say softly, walking up behind him and running your hands gently down his shoulders and arms.

He freezes, sighs, and leans his head back against your chest, eyes closed.

“Talk to me, baby,” you prompt, “Tell me what’s bothering you. I know it’s not just Abaddon.”

He swallows and opens his eyes so he’s looking up at you, “It’s nothing, Y/N,” he whispers.

“Yes it is,” you say, “Is it Sam? Is it Cas? Is it the baby?”

“God,” he groans, “All of it. Abaddon, Heaven, Sam on the mend, Cas going missing, _especially_ the baby, Y/N, what are you going to do about the baby?”

“Dean, I thought we’d discussed all of this?” you ask, “What’s bothering you?”

“This is no place for a little girl!” he gets up, pacing, “Look at this place! Half the things in this place are for killing! There’s no… no _pink_ anywhere! What’s she gonna do for fun?”

You frown and cross your arms, raising an eyebrow, “There’s no **pink**? So what? Dean, I would’ve killed to play with some of this stuff when I was young.”

“You grew up with hunters,” he reasons, “Our daughter will not be a hunter.”

“No,” you agree, “But that doesn’t mean she can’t like swords, or guns, or cars… Dean, when I was little I was obsessed with Star Wars. You like Star Wars! There’s plenty here to do for a little girl, and Dean, you’ll have lots to do with her.”

He sighs, “Are you sure? What if… what if she doesn’t like me?”

You smile a little, wrapping your arms around his torso and placing a gentle kiss to his cheek, “Baby, she’s gonna _love_ you. She’s gonna be such a Daddy’s girl, just you wait and see. Her Daddy’s a hero.”

He chuckles a little and presses a few chaste kisses to your lips, “Star Wars, huh?”

You nod, “With parents like us there’s no way she won’t like it,” you laugh, “You’ll have loads in common, baby, just wait and see. She’ll be a little you- I’m sure of it.”

You start to walk away and pull him toward the bedroom, but he catches your wrist and stops you, grinning, raising an eyebrow at you, “I thought you hated it when I called myself Daddy.”

You roll your eyes and smile coyly, “Well… maybe I don’t hate it **so** much,” you bite your lip and blush up at him, “It’s kind of cute, actually.”

He grins, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him a little harder, “Come on, Daddy,” you giggle, “Let’s go to bed.”

* * *

 

You hear their conversation from the hallway as you’re headed to the table for breakfast. They’re both already up and sitting at there, but they haven’t seen you yet.

It’s weird, Sam keeps talking in the third person, and he’s doing that robo-voice thing again. Dean’s talking to him as if he doesn’t even notice. Then suddenly, Sam’s himself again and it’s as if he’s in the middle of conversation they weren’t even having.

When Dean continues, Sam stops him, “Wait, why do you think the angels are organizing?”

You frown, hadn’t Sam just mentioned something about that?

You enter the room and pretend you hadn’t heard anything. “Good morning boys,” you greet cheerily as you enter, going into the kitchen briefly to get coffee and a muffin before coming back to sit across from Sam at the table.

“Mornin’ baby,” Dean grins, getting up, “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower. Get ready for whatever whackjob thing the universe wants to throw at us today.” He kisses your cheek briefly before leaving the room.

“How are you?” you ask Sam seriously, peering over your cup at him with concern.

“I’m good,” he says, “I’m really good. I’m doing a lot better.”

“Hm,” you raise your eyebrows, “You don’t think that’s weird?”

“What’s weird?”

You shrug, “A good night’s sleep and some exercise and what? You’re ready to get back in the saddle? After completing two and half trials- intended to slam the gates of Hell- that were kept so well hidden on that demon tablet that we needed a _prophet_ to translate them? I don’t know, Sam, it seems fishy. Too good to be true.”

He frowns at you, “Well, I’m fine, Y/N. I don’t know, maybe we just caught a lucky break with this one.”

“Because that happens to us,” you snort.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?” he asks in frustration.

“I’m saying there’s something off about you, Sam, and it’s worrying me!” you snap back.

He stills for a second and your eyes widen as is hazel eyes flash to blue and suddenly it’s Sam’s face looking at you but it’s definitely not Sam behind it.

“What are you doing?” the thing in Sam’s body asks.

“You’re not Sam,” you accuse.

“No,” he agrees.

“Who are you?”

“I am an angel. My name is Ezekiel.”

“An angel,” you repeat, “So Sammy consented to this?”

“In a way he did, yes,” Ezekiel says.

“In a way?” you ask, panic creeping up your spine and making your blood run cold.

“I could not possess a vessel without its consent,” the angel says, “though Sam was unable to consent at the time. Dean thought this necessary for his recovery, so we tricked-”

“ **Dean** thought?” you parrot him again, “Dean!” you shout.

“What?” he stomps back into the room, towel around his waist, “Oh- what are you _doing_ , Zeke? She didn’t know!”

“I do now!” you shout, “What the HELL, Dean?”

“Look, Y/N, I know how this looks.”

“Do you?”

“Sam was gonna die, babe!” he explains, “He was all set to say yes to Death. This was the only way!”

“And Sam doesn’t even know he’s in there?” you ask, eyes flickering between the angel and your fiancé.

“No,” Dean sighs, “Zeke’s cool though, okay babe? Cas signed off on him, he’s only here until Sam is healed. Please… Don’t tell Sam. If he kicks Zeke out, he’ll die.”

You let out a breath through your nose and look angrily between them, “Fine. But if this goes south I am kicking your ass.”

* * *

 

You were gonna kick his ass.

Yeah. “Ezekiel” turned out to not be Ezekiel at all, but rather an angel named Gadreel who’d apparently royally fucked up humanity- according to Castiel. Dean was still trying to keep you out of it, but you were immensely worried about Sam.

You’re alone in the bunker right now while they’re off doing god-know-what to try and get Sam back. And they’d brought the King of Hell. There’s so much wrong with this that you aren’t sure what to be worried about. You busy yourself with research on Abaddon so you don’t have to think about it.

Eventually… **finally** , you hear the door of the bunker open. You hop up and run to the door.

“Sam?” you ask hesitantly as he stumbles exhaustedly through the door and down the stairs.

He smiles weakly, “Yeah, Y/N, it’s me.”

You heave a sigh of relief and fall into his arms, wrapping yours around his neck to hug him close, “God, I’m so happy to see you.”

He chuckles, “Me too.”

You look over his shoulder at the door, expecting it to open again, but it doesn’t, “Where’s Dean?” you frown.

He hesitates,” Um… Y/N…”

“ _Where’s Dean_?” you repeat more firmly.

“He’s fine,” he assures, “But, uh, Y/N… Dean’s not coming home. Not right now.”

“What happened?” you demand.

He explains the situation to you, everything that happened, and why Dean had left.

“Typical,” you huff, hurt, “Fucking typical Dean.”

“Don’t be too mad at him, Y/N,” Sam says softly.

“Aren’t you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at him, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

“Well, yeah! He let an angel possess me! He took away my free will and made the decision for me. _Again_ ,” he rants.

“You were going to die, Sam,” you defend.

“I was READY to die, Y/N!” he yells.

“Well, we weren’t ready for you to die!” you shout back, “I don’t want you to die!”

“How is that your choice?” he asks, “Y/N, that’s not up to you! Or Dean!”

“I love you, Sam!" you shout angrily, hands curling into fists, “Dean loves you! You would hae done the same thing for one of us!”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he says quietly.

“You’d just let your brother die?” you ask, tears springing up in your eyes.

“If that’s what he wanted- yeah. I’d respect his decision,” Sam whispers, not looking at you.

You’re silent for a moment, trying to control the emotion in your voice before you coldly say, “Yeah. Well, I guess you proved that when he was in Purgatory.”

You walk away.

* * *

 

“Y/N?” he knocks at your door a little while later, where you’re curled up in bed, crying into Dean’s pillow.

“I tried calling him,” you whisper, “He didn’t pick up.”

“Just give him some time to cool off,” Sam says, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, “He’s mad at me, not you.”

“He’s not mad at you, Sam, he’s mad at himself,” you sigh, sitting up to look at him.

“Yeah… well, either way, he won’t be gone forever. He’s not going to leave you alone, Y/N,” he says.

You nod. “I know,” you whisper.

“Y/N-” he starts.

“Sam, are you okay?” you ask seriously.

“I’m… getting there,” he answers honestly, “Cas said it will take a while to heal me from the effect of the trials, but-”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Sam,” you say quietly.

He swallows, not looking at you, “Yeah… yeah, I guess, Y/N, I’m okay. I’m… relieved, actually. It would have been hard… if she were mine. So, I guess, it’s for the best.”

You nod, agreeing with him, “I’m sorry, Sam.”

“For what?” he asks, shaking his head, “No, I’m sorry. I can’t believe I asked you not to marry him. I don’t know what came over me.”

“A fit of passion?” you suggest, smiling widely to try to lighten the mood.

He chuckles, “Yeah, that’s probably it… I do love you, Y/N.”

“I know, Sam.”

“I think… we have to stop, whatever this is between us. I mean, you’re gonna be my sister-in-law. So… this is me, giving up, I guess. But, Y/N, you gotta meet me halfway here, okay? You gotta give up with me. We’re always gonna be in each other’s lives, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but if you’re not gonna make an effort to keep this… this, desire, or whatever it is, out of our relationship, then you can’t expect me to,” he tells you seriously.

You nod, smiling softly at him, “I’m with you, Sam. You called it right from the beginning. I love you, Sam, but Dean… What I feel for Dean, it’s… intense, it’s consuming, it can’t be replicated. I need him, Sam. And I am really, truly sorry that things didn’t work out with us the way you wanted, but I am just so glad to know I don’t have to lose you. I know it’s selfish, but-”

“It’s not selfish,” he says quietly, “Y/N, I’m happy, too. I think this’ll be good. Things will be good between us from now on.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, “Yeah,” he smiles at you, “Besides, I’m really excited to meet my niece.”


	6. Anything for Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean gets the Mark of Cain things get hard for the three of you. Even worse when you find out what the Mark of Cain does when it's host dies. But you'd do anything for Dean.

You’re 38 weeks pregnant, and you feel like you’re going to pop.

Things had gone from bad to worse in the last few months. While Dean had been off, separating himself from you and Sam for whatever self-martyr reasons he had this time, he and Crowley teamed up to find a way to kill Abaddon. Now, Dean had the Mark of Cain- a mark that would allow him to wield the First Blade and kill Abaddon, but came with some unforeseen side effects.

Dean hadn’t been himself lately. He was on edge, more so than usual, sometimes he was downright aggressive. Which, honestly, you were enjoying in the bedroom. You’d been very self-conscious lately since you and Dean hadn’t had sex in so long and you were steadily getting larger, but ever since Dean got that mark things were definitely heated between you. Even when you had had sex before, you’d have to really beg Dean to be rough- now he did it anyway, only holding back so as not to hurt the baby. So, in the beginning, you weren’t as worried about the Mark as Sam was.

He’d killed Abaddon, and the team was gearing up to take on Metatron- leaving you out, of course. But Dean seemed so much worse off than usual. He needed to kill. The **Mark** needed to kill. He honestly frightened you a little. And your due date was right around the corner.

“You don’t have to do this, Dean,” you plead with him as he takes the First Blade in hand and gets ready to go and face Metatron.

“Yes, I do, Y/N,” he growls, not looking at you.

“Please, Dean, what about your daughter?” you cry.

“I’m doing this for her!” he shouts, “You think she’ll be safe with someone like Metatron playing God? I’m taking care of this, Y/N.”

You grab his arm as he turns to leave and make him look at you, “Dean…” you breathe, letting him see in your eyes how much it pains you to watch him go, to have no say, “Be careful,” you say, reaching up to rest one hand against his face.

He lets out one shuddering breath, closing his eyes for a second before looking at you and leaning in to kiss you softly, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too, Dean,” you breathe, tears falling from your eyes.

“I’m gonna be okay,” he says, “And when I get home- we’re giving her a name!” he calls, walking out the door.

* * *

 

Your hands shake and tears roll uncontrollably down your face as you stare down at his lifeless body, lying on the bed. You can’t **breathe**. You want to scream. You want to run. You want to die.

You want him to open his eyes.

You take one of his hands in yours. It’s cold, and doesn’t grip you back. You fall to your knees against the edge of the bed and lean down to press kisses against his lips, his face, his head. He doesn’t wake.

“You _promised_ ,” you whisper against his cold, dead skin, “You promised you’d be okay. You promised you’d come home. **Damn you!** What am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to do without you? I begged you not to go! You never _listen!”_

You get up, kicking the side of the bed in anger.

“Y/N,” you hear softly from the doorway.

“Go away, Sam!” you bite out.

“I’m summoning Crowley,” Sam says, anger and desperation in his voice, “I’m not going to let Dean die. I’m not going to let this happen.”

You want to argue with him. To tell him deals are never a good thing, that Crowley can’t be trusted, but you don’t. “Do it,” you whisper, following him out of the room with one last look at your dead fiancé to help him summon the King of Hell.

You know the ritual by heart by now- and you **know** you’ve done all the steps correctly- but the demon doesn’t show.

“Damn it, Crowley!” Sam yells, kicking over the bowl in frustration, “Where are you?”

Your heart breaks all over again when the last shred of hope you had leaves you.

You slump back to your room to sit beside Dean’s corpse, but your eyes widen in shock to find the bed empty.

“Sam!” you yell, “He’s gone!”

Sam runs over to you, bracing himself against the doorway as he looks into the room. “What the hell?” he breathes.

There’s a note on the bed where Dean’s body had been, and Sam picks it up to read, showing it to you.

 _Let me go_.

“Does this mean he’s alive?” you just barely whisper- not daring to hope.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Sam says, emotion choking him and causing him to bite out his words.

“Sam,” you say a little louder.

“What?”

“My water just broke.”

* * *

 

14 hours later, you’re alone in the hospital room, clutching your child to your breast. Tears roll down your face as you look down into her bright green eyes. She’s got a mop of blonde curls, and Dean’s lips and chin. She’s got your nose, though. She’s crying, and the sound wrecks your heart and causes your own sobbing, “I know,” you whisper to her, “I know, baby, this is all wrong. Daddy should be here.”

The doctor comes back into the room to check in on you and the baby. He asks you if you’ve chosen a name for the birth certificate yet. You bite your lip, remembering how you and Dean were supposed to name her together after he defeated Metatron.

“Mary,” you whisper, “Mary Winchester.”

A little while later, Mary falls asleep and you use the opportunity to take a nap yourself, letting unconsciousness sweep over you and make you numb to all your emotions.

After what feels like 2 seconds, but is actually a few hours, you feel a familiar hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake.

“Y/N,” he whispers, “We can go home. I’m here to take you home.”

“Sam,” you croak, “Did you find Dean?”

He shakes his hand sadly, “No, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Another sob shakes your body as you crawl slowly out of bed, swiping at your tears and pulling on clothing so you can leave the hospital. Sam goes over to the bassinet your daughter is sleeping in, looking down at her with awe, and a few tears fall from his eyes, “She looks just like him.”

You walk up next to him and rest a hand on his shoulder, “Her name is Mary.”

He smiles, nodding a little to himself, “Yeah.”

He sighs, “I’m gonna find him, Y/N. I promise you.”

“I know you will, Sam,” you whisper, taking your child in your arms, relieved to be going home.

When you get home, Cas is waiting there for you, which you hadn’t anticipated- and he’s got another angel with him. Whoever she’s wearing is tall, with blonde hair and kind blue eyes. She’s smiling at you softly as you enter the bunker, holding Mary to your chest protectively.

“Y/N,” Cas greets, smiling.

“Castiel,” you acknowledge, eyeing the other angel suspiciously.

“This is Julia,” Cas explains, “She’s a guardian angel. I’ve asked her to take a special interest in Mary.”

“A guardian angel?” you ask, “So what, you’re like a divine nanny?”

She laughs, “I watch over and protect the children in my charge,” she says, “Though Castiel tells me this child in important, and I am to devote all of my attention to her. So, if that’s what you’d ask of me, yes, I can be her nanny.”

You smile, despite everything, “Wow. That’s actually really relieving. Thank you. And thank you, Cas.”

He smiles softly at you, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

 

Julia turns out to be a huge help and relief to you over the next few months.

Sam takes off, chasing any lead that could help him find his brother. He doesn’t really keep in contact with you very well, you often have to call him after a week or so of no updates from him. Cas leaves as well, wanting to hide the condition his failing Grace had left him in. That left you alone with Julia in the bunker for almost six months.

She was one of the nicest angels you had ever met. Julia said guardian angels didn’t bother much with the war in Heaven. Most of them were on Earth anyway, watching over children, so the fall hadn’t affected most of them much. Julia had been particularly close to Cas since way before any of this had ever started, and said if Cas says Mary is important- she trusts him.

Mary was getting bigger every day. Sometimes you couldn’t believe she was six months old already. She was your entire world. Nothing outside of the bunker’s walls existed to you, except Sam when he called and the prospect of getting Dean back. All there was, was you, Mary, and Julia.

Until one day when you hear the bunker door slam open and two pairs of boots clump down the stairs.

“Sam?” you call excitedly, passing Mary to Julia for protection- just in case it isn’t him- and going to meet him.

Your heart stops when you see him. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Dean!” you cry, a smile crossing your face before you see Sam’s face, and your smile falters.

Dean looks at you, right at you, right in your eyes, his jaw clenched in anger- the energy coming off him is downright hostile. You take in his appearance, slightly dishevelled, wet, and handcuffed in Sam’s grasp.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean smirks at you, his eyes flickering from their familiar deep green to black, “Miss me?”

“No,” you breathe, eyes widening in disbelief.

“Y/N,” Sam says, ignoring his brother, “Take Mary and go hide in your room. Lock and salt the door. I’ll handle this.” He starts to push past you, dragging Dean along behind him toward the dungeon.

“Like hell you will! Julia has her, I’m coming with you!” you protest.

“No, you’re not!” Sam says, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dean laughs, “Steal her from me again, did ya Sammy?”

“You shut up!” you snap, “You’re not Dean! Not really!”

“Oh, I _am_ Dean, sweetheart. And I bet you didn’t wait four whole seconds after I left to jump my brother’s bones again, did you?” he spits.

Sam pushes him down into the chair in the center of the Devil’s trap and chains him to it.

“I haven’t done anything!” you argue.

“Y/N, stop. He’s a demon! He’s just trying to rile you up,” Sam says.

Tears well up in your eyes as you take in Dean’s face smirking at you.

“You’re right,” you whisper, “I can’t do this. Good luck, Sam.”

You stumble out of the room, ignoring Dean’s taunts as you leave.

“Is everything okay, Miss Y/N?” Julia asks as you take Mary from her arms, reveling in how she smiles up at you with an adorable grin and familiar green eyes.

“No, Julia, nothing is okay.”

* * *

 

“Is it working?” you ask hopefully as Sam walks into the kitchen where you’re feeding Mary.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking at you with those big, sad eyes, “Y/N, I could be killing him.”

You swallow, looking back at Mary as you guide the spoon to her mouth, “Well… would you rather he stayed a demon?”

“You want me to just let him die?” Sam asks.

“I **want** you to cure him! But if it doesn’t work… That’s not Dean in there, Sam! I have an obligation to protect my daughter! And that demon in there is NOT her Daddy!” you say firmly.

Mary squeals and throws her spoon, smashing her hands into the bowl of sweet potatoes.

“OK, you’re done!” you smile at her, taking her out of the high chair to clean her up.

Sam shakes his head in astonishment, “How do you do it? How can you stay so calm right now?”

“I’m not calm, Sam. But I have to be, for my daughter,” you tell him.

After a while, you put Mary down for a nap, and go looking for Sam. He’s not in the kitchen where you’d left him, or in his room, or the library, so you assume he’s in the dungeon and prepare for the worst.

“Sam?” you call, pushing the door open.

“Nope. Just me, sweetheart,” Dean smiles at you.

“Then I’ll just go,” you bite out, not looking at him.

“Why in such a hurry?” he asks, “Didn’t you miss me?”

You clench your jaw and close your eyes as you take in a deep breath, your back to him, “You missed the birth of your child.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, well I was having too much fun.”

You sigh, “I really hope you’re still in there somewhere, Dean. But if not, don’t think I can’t kill you. Sam may not be able to, but I can.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart?” he asks, “You think you got the guts to end it, looking at my face?”

You turn around and look in his eyes, going over to rest your hands on his chair and stare him down, “Don’t underestimate me, Dean,” you spit dangerously, “I will do anything to protect my daughter. Even if that means I have to kill you myself.”

“And then what?” he asks, “You’ll marry Sam and live happily ever after?” he laughs, “Now don’t that make a pretty picture!”

“What is it to you?” you ask, “Are you jealous? Is there even a shred of human emotion left in you?”

He scoffs, “I wouldn’t count on it, honey.”

“Then what would you care if I did marry Sam?” you ask, raising one eyebrow at him.

“I don’t,” he says, “I say, go ahead. That’s probably where all this was heading anyway.”

You sigh, not really wanting to ask but you do anyway, “What do you mean?”

“With Sam,” he says, “And all of your… **feelings**. I mean, I don’t know what I was thinking hopping into bed with a train wreck like you in the first place. Shoulda known you’d fuck everything up. Sam and I were just fine before you came along.”

You blink back tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but he can tell his words are affecting you and he smiles, “I’m right, Y/N, and you know it. Everything that’s happened since you showed up has been your fault. All because you can’t make up your damn mind! Bet you wish you could just have us both. Would you like that, Y/N?” he purrs, “I bet you would. Tell me, Y/N, have you always been this big of a slut?”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” you say, turning to go, “I don’t have to take this from you, Dean. Not now, not ever.”

“Why? ‘Cause you know I’m right?” he calls after you as you shut the door behind you.

“What were you doing in there?” Sam asks as you run into him in the hall, his hands gripping your shoulders as he looks down at you in concern.

“Nothing,” you say, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Y/N, whatever he said- it’s not true.”

“I know,” you say, not looking back up at him, “It’s okay, Sam, I’m a big girl. He didn’t hurt me. Going in to shoot him up again?”

He nods, “Yeah, there’s only a few more injections left. Hopefully they work. And Cas should be here soon, too.”

You nod, “Good.”

You go into the nursery you’d decorated yourself, the room next to yours, to see that Mary is still sleeping peacefully. You smile over at Julia, who is dutifully watching over her. You bite your lip, dread creeping into your heart.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” she asks.

“You protect her, no matter what, okay? At any cost,” you tell her firmly.

She nods, “I will.”

You nod at her, “If… if anything happens, and you can spare Dean, please try to. If not…”

She nods again, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I understand.”

“If possible, if anything happens, just take Mary and flee. I’ll find you when things are taken care of,” you tell her.

“What about you?” she asks.

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her, “I’m a hunter. And he… he’s just another demon piece of shit like so many I’ve killed before. I can… I can do it. If I have to, I will.”

* * *

 

“Y/N! He’s gone!” Sam yells, bursting into your room.

You turn to Julia, who immediately grabs Mary and makes a break for it. You breathe a sigh of relief before turning back to Sam, “How? Where?”

“I don’t know!” he says, exasperated, “Here,” he hands you the demon knife.

“Sam…” you start.

“Just in case, please, Y/N. I’m going to go lock the doors and look for him,” he says as you take the knife from him.

After Sam leaves, you creep out into the halls, knife in hand, to look for Dean. You hear him taunting Sam loudly, and follow his voice somewhere down the halls. You peer around the corner, but he’s not there. You take a deep breath and keep going, venturing further into the depths of the bunker.

“Oh, and what do we have here?” you hear from behind you and you spin around to face him, “You actually gonna use that thing, Y/N? ‘Cause, you see, I don’t think you are.”

“Don’t make me, Dean!” you say fiercely, eyeing the hammer in his hand.

“Where’s our little girl, Y/N?” he asks, “Mary- was it? How sentimental of you.”

“Somewhere far away from you!” you spit.

“Now, don’t be like that, Y/N,” he smiles, “I never was into the whole messy custody battle thing.”

“You’ll never lay eyes on her as long as you’re a demon!” you yell.

“Better kill me than, Y/N, ‘cause I don’t want to be cured,” he says.

The hand you’re holding the knife in is shaking as you take a slow step backward away from him.

He rolls his eyes, “Jesus, Y/N, you’re all talk, aren’t you?” He takes one fast step toward you, swinging his arm and knocking the knife from your grasp, sending it skittering across the floor and pressing you up against the wall.

“Sam!” you yell for help.

“Oh, your boyfriend can’t help you now, Y/N,” he laughs, looking down at you with anger and malice in his eyes, “My baby brother doesn’t have the guts to kill me either.” He gives you a wolfish grin, dropping the hammer and pinning your arms above your head, his free hand snaking up under your shirt, “He’ll probably stop to watch.”

“Dean, stop! No! Sam!” you scream, trying to knee the demon between the legs, but he backs up from your reach before pinning your hips with his.

“Stop it, Y/N!” he growls.

One minute he’s on you, the next Sam is wrenching him away from you, throwing him against the opposite wall, the knife in his hand.

“Enough, Dean!” he yells, holding the knife up.

Dean chuckles, “You gonna kill me, Sammy?”

“ **Don’t** touch her!” Sam spits.

“She is my fiancée, Sam,” the demon smiles, “Besides, I think she liked it.”

You let out a frightened, shuddering breath, wrenching the ring off of your finger and throwing it in his face, “As long as you’re a demon- I am nothing to you!”

His eyes flash with anger and he takes another step toward you before Sam stops him, the knife pressed against his throat. “Well, look at you!” Dean laughs in surprise, “Do it,” he taunts, “It’s all you.” Sam hesitates. You’re about to step up to help him when you see Castiel sneak up behind him. Your eyes flicker with relief, which almost alerts Dean to the angel’s presence, but not before her gets a hold of him.

Dean screams, and it sounds like nothing human.

“It’s over, Dean!” Cas yells, “It’s over!”

The demon’s black eyes are fixed on you, anger and hate so plain on his face that it breaks your heart and makes your blood run cold. Just seeing him looking at you like that… you know it isn’t really him, but it hurts even still.

After Cas and Sam drag Dean back to the dungeon, you sink against the wall, sitting on the floor in the hallway, your knees pulled up to your chest, and sob. You pick up the little black and silver ring that you’d thrown in Dean’s face, playing with it between your fingers as you cry.

* * *

 

A few hours later, you’d managed to find Julia and Mary and bring them home. Sam had told you the cure had worked, but you didn’t want to see him yet. You’d locked yourself in the nursery, holding Mary tightly to your chest as she nursed, tears running down your face. You knew he was himself again, but the memory of the demon was too fresh in your mind. Of how he’d tried to kill you and Sam, of how he’d touched you, of how he’d looked at you.

“Y/N?” Cas knocks on the door gently.

You put Mary down in her crib and go to open the door, “Hi, Cas.”

“I’ve spoken to Dean. He’s fine now, if you want to speak with him,” the angel tells you.

You look away, “I can’t, Cas,” you bite your lip, more tears falling from your eyes, “I _can’t_. He… he terrified me. I can’t… I can’t see his face. I-”

“I understand,” Cas says softly, “Y/N, it wasn’t him.”

“I know. I know that. I just…” you sigh.

“It’s fine. I’ll tell him you’re not ready,” he smiles, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder in a display of human affection before leaving.

You sigh, sinking back into your seat beside the crib. You know you’re going to have to talk to him eventually- probably sooner than later- but for now you just need to breathe.

“So what? Am I in the doghouse?” you hear his voice quietly from the hallway.

“I’m sure she knows it wasn’t really you, Dean,” Cas says, “She just needs some time.”

“I feel awful, man,” Dean sighs, “I was… I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill them both,” emotion chokes his voice and you can hear the gentle pat of Cas’ hand on his shoulder.

“They love you, Dean. The fact that you’re still here is a testament to that. She’ll be okay, you just need to give her some time,” Cas repeats.

“I missed the birth of my daughter,” you hear him sigh shakily, “I missed the first six months of her life! Cas… we gotta get this thing the hell off my arm.”

“We will… figure something out,” Cas says, then you hear footsteps as they leave the hall and it goes quiet again.

* * *

 

You didn’t notice you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you wake a few hours later. You peer into the crib to make sure Mary’s still asleep before getting to your feet and going next door.

Dean’s not in your room, so you walk slowly down the hall, looking for him. You find him sleeping on the couch, probably so as not to invade your privacy and freak you out.

“Dean,” you say softly, standing next to the couch, not touching him, “Dean.”

He sits up, “Y/N!” he goes to hug you but hesitates, scooting away from you on the couch, afraid he’ll frighten you.

You sit next to him on the couch, not too close to him, still not touching, “We should talk,” you whisper.

He nods, eyes flickering down to your hand and he sighs in relief when he sees the ring back on your finger.

You take a deep breath, “I want you to know- I didn’t do anything with Sam while you were gone.”

He looks surprised, “Y/N, that wasn’t me talking. I didn’t mean those things- I…”

“I know,” you say, “I just want you to know. I’m yours, Dean, and I’m all in. Clearly. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

He smiles wide in relief, visibly shaking as his hands twitch toward you, but he still doesn’t touch you without your permission. You take one of his hands in both of yours to calm him, and stop his shaking. “Now… as for Mary,” you say, “It’s honestly going to take some time for me to get used to you being here. I love you, Dean, and I trust you, but I… Dean, this whole experience was terrifying. You’re her Dad, and I want you to be her Dad, but it may be a while before I’m totally comfortable with you being alone with her… Please, tell me you understand.”

He nods, “I do understand, Y/N,” he whispers, hurt in his voice, but he knows there’s nothing he can do but wait this out, “I wasn’t there. I should have been here for you, but I-”

“It’s not your fault, Dean,” you lean in and press a slow, soft kiss to his lips.

He sighs under you, relaxing as you finally scoot closer to him, “I forgive you.”

You can feel moisture against your cheek and are shocked to find tears in his eyes. You raise your hand to wipe them away, pressing kisses to his face, cradling his head to your chest as he leans into you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispers.

“It’s okay, Dean,” you sigh, relieved and overjoyed to have him in your arms again, “It’ll be okay.” You stand, taking his hand in yours again and pulling him with you, “Come on… let’s go meet your daughter.”


	7. Anything for Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final chapter of this 3 part series, the three of you figure out how to live together with the newest member of your family. Dean knows that whatever happens- he'd do anything for her.

The thing about Dean Winchester was that you gravitated toward him so easily. It was as if you were bound. Every move he made, you made in parallel, subconsciously keeping yourself in his orbit. So it was no surprise when he fit himself back into your life so easily.

The Mark was still a problem, but he was trying so hard to keep himself in check, especially around you and Mary. It had been almost three months since he’d been home. Mary took to him like flies on honey; somehow you think she knew he was her Daddy. She always wanted him.

Dean was a **great** Daddy. You loved watching him with her. You loved the look on his face when he looked at her- like she was the most beautiful thing in the world to him- to both of you.

You look up from the book that you’re flipping through- trying to find information on how to remove the Mark of Cain- when Dean approaches you.

“Did she go to sleep for you okay?” you ask as he leans down to kiss you.

“Yup. Told you I could do it,” he says.

“I had the utmost faith in you,” you joke, “Now if only you’d change a diaper.”

He wrinkles his nose in mock disgust, “I mean… I _can_. I just would rather not.”

“Welcome to my life,” you chuckle, standing next to him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

He kissed your nose, “Find anything?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shake your head, “Not a damn thing.”

“Well…” Dean starts, “Mary’s asleep… Sam is out. You wanna…?”

He was still a little hesitant about sex with you, after he’d pretty much molested you as a demon. He was scared that you would be afraid of him, or wouldn’t want him.

You smile at him to show him you’re okay with it, “Yeah, I do,” you grin, gripping his hips and pulling him closer to you. He sighs in relief against your lips as you reach up to kiss him, his hand tangling in your hair, the other on your ass to hold your hips securely to his. You let out a quiet moan of pleasure at having him close to you, and rock up into his touch.

“Dean,” you sigh, clutching him impossibly closer.

He chuckles against your mouth and mumbles, “Maybe we should move this to the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly and he scoops you up in his arms and all but runs to the room, shutting the door behind him softly with his foot and depositing you on the bed. He pulls off his shirt, and you follow suit, before he crawling over you and holding your body down against the mattress with his own.

“Gotta be quiet, Y/N,” he whispers, trailing hot open mouthed kisses down your throat and chest, “Don’t wanna wake the baby.”

“Dean,” you moan softly again, reaching out to grab his belt loops and tug him closer to you. You buck your hips into his, feeling his erection straining against his jeans. He hisses at the contact and looks up at you, smiling wolfishly.

“Eager, are we?” he asks, pulling your jeans down your legs and off, burying hid head between your thighs and running his tongue slowly up your cloth covered slit. You gasp and your hips buck up into his face. He holds them down, finger dipping inside the waistband of your panties to tug them down and off. He repeats the motion of his tongue on your now bare flesh and you cry out.

“Ssh,” he hushes you, “Quiet, baby, Mary’s right next door.”

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths to quiet yourself as he goes back to his task between your legs, tongue ghosting up your slit, around your entrance, playing with your clit. He pushes your knees open wider, resting his arms on your thighs, to hold you down as he picks up the pace, relentlessly tonguing at your clit and pushing two fingers inside you.

“Fuck! Dean!” you gasp.

He comes up for air, tongue trailing wickedly over his plump, wet lips and flicking down to lick some of your juices off his chin. You moan at the sight.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks gruffly, his hips bucking into the bed for friction on their own accord.

“I want you to fuck me, Dean,” you groan, clenching around his fingers and pushing yourself down onto them.

He groans, his eyes closing momentarily as he tries to stay quiet, then he pulls them out and stand up to take his pants off. He crawls back toward you, lowering his head to kiss you deeply as he pushes slowly inside of you, and you spread your knees even wider to give him better access, hooking one leg around his waist when he’s fully inside of you. He lets out a shaky breath, smiling down at you in reassurance, before slowly rocking in and out of you. You clutch at him, tortured by the slow rock of his hips, but also not wanting to rush this. You revel in the feeling of him surrounding you, his hot skin slick with sweat pressed against yours. His eyes trained on your face. His cock buried deep inside you.

“Dean,” you breathe, “Dean. Dean. Dean.”

“I know, baby,” he whispers, pressing kisses to your neck and ear.

“More,” you gasp, and he picks up the pace a little, slamming into you harder each time he rocks his hips.

You bite your lip to keep from moaning and dig your nails into his back.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, pounding into you even faster.

“Dean, I’m so close,” you whine.

He moans, “Come for me, baby.” His hand wedges itself between your bodies so his thumb can play with your clit as he pounds into you.

You arch your back and push your hips into his hand, and-

And you hear wailing from the next room.

“Damn it,” Dean stills, his head falling to your shoulder in defeat, “Is the angel home?” he asks.

You shake your head, you’d started giving Julia time off so that Dean could get more used to being alone with Mary.

“Fuck. Okay, so this is how it’s gonna be then,” he laughs, pulling out of you, and you whine as he pulls his boxers on and goes next door.

You sigh and get up to follow him to see if she wants to nurse.

“Next time, give Daddy like five more minutes, kid,” he says, scooping her up and holding her close to him, rocking gently back and forth. You smile, watching him from the doorway for a minute before you go up behind him, running your hands over the bare skin of his back and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

“Is she okay?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah, just woke up is all,” he smiles down at her, his eyes shining with adoration, “You go back to bed, baby. I’ll be in in a minute.”

You obey with one last kiss to his skin, going back into your room and sliding under the covers. You roll onto your side, eyes slipping closed, and you almost fall asleep before he slinks back into the room, shutting the door behind him, “Where were we?”

You grin as he crawls back up the bed toward you.

* * *

 

“Dean?” you call softly, rubbing your eyes as you pad out of your room and into the nursery, only to find it empty, clad only in your panties and Dean’s t-shirt. You go down the hall into the kitchen, the living room, and the library, before finally finding the entire family in Sam’s room.

The boys are sitting on either side of the bed, Mary lying on her back in the middle as the coo over her and play with her.

You smile at the scene, your heart growing warm and fuzzy at the sight.

“She looks so much like you,” Sam says. They haven’t noticed you standing there yet.

“She looks like Mom,” Dean whispers, “Blonde hair, green eyes… Y/N named her well.”

Sam smiles, “Yeah, she did.”

“We’re cool, man?” Dean asks suddenly, “About Y/N, I mean.”

“Yeah. Yes, I… I backed off. There’s nothing between us now, I promise,” Sam assures him.

“You know she’d do anything for you,” Dean tells him.

“I’m sure she would, and I’d do anything for her. But we’re family, Dean, that’s all it is,” he says.

Dean nods, looking back down at his daughter, “Good. I’m glad.”

“You know we need to get that Mark off your arm, Dean. At any cost,” Sam says quietly.

“I know.”

“Are you prepared for that? To do anything it takes?” he asks.

Dean sighs, holding his finger out for Mary to grasp and smiling down at her, “Yeah, I am. Anything. I’d do anything for her.”


End file.
